re was nothing like trying. Placing
my hands to my sides, I shouted out, "Help, help! I'm shut up below. I
shall die if you don't let me out. Oh, do come, sailors. Don't you
hear me? Help! Help! Help!"

Then I gave way to a loud roar of agony and despair. After this I
stopped for a few minutes listening as before, then putting my hands to
my mouth, as if by so doing I should increase the loudness of my voice,
I shouted with all the strength of my lungs. Suddenly the idea occurred
to me that the sailors would hear my voice, but not knowing whence it
proceeded would fancy the ship was haunted and would be in a dreadful
fright. Strange as it may seem the thought amused me, and I gave way to
an hysterical laugh. "Now I'll warrant not one of them will like to
come below on account of the supposed ghost. They will be spinning all
sorts of yarns to each other about hobgoblins appearing on board." Old
Riddle had spun several such yarns, and they came to my recollection.
One was about a boy named Sam Smitch. Sam was the dirtiest fellow on
board, and could never understand what cleanliness meant. He was
constantly, therefore, being punished. That didn't mend his ways, and
he was a nuisance to all the crew, who, of course, gave him a frequent
taste of the rope's-end and bullied him in all sorts of ways. At last
Sam declared that he would jump overboard and end his misery. The men
laughed at him, and said that he hadn't the courage to do it.

"Haven't I?" said Sam, "you'll see that I'll do it, and my blood will be
upon your heads."

Still none would believe that Sam would do away with himself, till one
morning his jacket and hat were found in the head, and when the ship's
company was mustered at divisions, Sam didn't answer to his name. He
was searched for everywhere, but could not be discovered, and at length
it became very evident to all that Sam must have put his threat into
execution and thrown himself overboard during the night. Whether any of
the men recollected that it was their cruelty that had driven him to
this act of desperation I can't say, but probably it didn't much trouble
their consciences; they only considered he was a fool for his pains.
Two or three days passed away, when Sam Smitch was well-nigh forgotten.

One night, however, one of the carpenter's crew was going along the
lower-deck, when he saw a figure in white gliding past him in the
distance. The figure for a moment turned its head